Lyrics Junkie Story - The So So Glos

Junkie Story

I wonder what your story is?
Long hair, grey whiskers, tattered jeans, crooked pictures.
I wonder what your story is?
Long hair grey whiskers, trampled dreams, cracked pictures.
No one listens to a dying man,
Maybe listen to a broken man and learn something,
Down and out, out and down.
So the needle took you by the hand,
Kept you warm, made you feel like a man
So you bought your leather case,
And the music fades away,
And the train picks up speed,
You wish you played it safe,
Why didn’t you play it cool?
Now you’re a fool.
I wonder what your story is?
Long hair, grey Whiskers, shattered dreams, crooked pictures.
When I see that ring on your hand,
O that life must have been grand,
Did you have kids and a wife of your own?
Did you have dreams of making a home?
Now you’re a gutter prince on your own,
O you should have had a queen of your own,
Did you lose your mind in the street?
Did traffic stop, did they stare at your feet?
Were you sick of the days and nights?
Did the sun come up and frighten your eyes?
Did it take all of your pride?
Did it turn out your insides?
You wish you played it safe,
O why didn’t you play it cool, Now you’re a fool.
Here’s a smoke for your dying wish,
Here’s a dime for that habit you just couldn’t kick,
I’m sure nothing else will do.
Laying on that cardboard bed of yours,
Wish you had a bed of roses too, Yea that would do.
Now your time has come and passed,
Smoke that smoke, tell a joke, remember the good times last.
He don’t know no better way out, he sits and dreams all day, He’s bought a gun
now, Enough to shoot em' down,
He’s on the corner of the church,
With the change falling out,
Of his pocket,
He’s gotta stop it.
He keeps on circling the block with his 8 track soul, all alone on the
Coal.
Every Friday night,
He godda' so so glo,
Every Saturday night,
He gotta 8 track soul.
Come on and tell me, your junkie story
Come on and tell me bout' your dead end glory.